Once upon a time
by FollowtheAurora
Summary: They are standing on the deck of a ship. At the bow. The rain pours down around them, like droplets of blackness. The woman standing at the railings, leaning over, just slightly. The man, edging up behind her, tentatively. Stretching out his hand to her. Mergana angst, please R&R! Twoshot.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. It's probably for the best, otherwise you'd be getting this stuff every week ;)

Warnings: Rated M for a suicide.

Pairing: It's Mergana, but not explicitly, so you could choose to see it differently. Mentions of reincarnation. First fic ever, so please go easy.

On with the sad, depressing fic! :D

**Once upon a time…**

The scene is like something from a film. A book. Not real.

But then, neither are they. Really.

They are standing on the deck of a ship.

At the bow. The rain pours down around them, like droplets of blackness. The woman standing at the railings, leaning over, just slightly. The man, edging up behind her, tentatively. Stretching out his hand to her.

There is no moonlight. All is dark. The car headlights have been left behind on the road, along with her car. She wasn't planning on returning.

There is silence.

Apart from his voice.

It worms its way into her otherwise closed ears. It always has.

She hates it. She always has.

She loves it. She always has.

She loves _him._

But she hates him too.

He's begging, pleading with her. "Morgana. Listen to me. Please, come away from the edge, _please._"

She can hear his voice, in her head. Words from another time.

_It doesn't have to be like this. We can find another way._

"What am I, Merlin? A story? A legend? Am I even real?" Her voice is thick with all the unshed tears of generations.

"What about you? Are you my enemy or my friend or… or something more? Why didn't you tell me?" She hadn't meant to say so much, but once she's started she can't stop, and the words fall from her lips as the raindrops are falling from the sky, drenching her. Drowning her.

"Can we be friends? Are we even allowed to be? Or are we still bound by that destiny you believed in so much?"

Tears mingle with the raindrops on his skin. "Destiny doesn't hold us any more, Morgana. It's run its course. What we do now is up to us. We can be the authors of our own destinies."

Doesn't he see? Doesn't he understand? She can still hear the screams. Feel the flames. Even on her rain-slicked skin, she can feel the dust, the blood. The raw power she controlled. Murdered with.

_Once upon a time… _

Doesn't he understand?

_There is no other way._

She swings her leg up over the railing, and jumps.

**(A/N: I would really appreciate it if you could review this story and tell me what you think. It's my first fic ever, of any fandom, so don't be too harsh, pretty please?**

**I can continue this, and have Merlin save Morgana, if you want me to J Let me know!)**


	2. Chapter 2: Our Happily Ever After

**No, I have not magically acquired ownership of Merlin while I was writing this chapter, otherwise another series would be playing on your telly screens right now.**

**Thank you SO MUCH to all my lovely lovely reviewers, you are all beautiful people and I shall now gift you with internet hugs and virtual bunnies.**

***throws internet bunnies at you and squeezes the life out of you with internet hugs***

**I know this chapter has been a long time in the works, and I'm so grateful to all you lovely readers for being patient with me. My abysmal excuse is… *drumroll* homework. That and little monsters (Oh, I'm sorry, did I say monsters? I meant brothers) stealing my laptop.**

**On with the fic!**

**Once Upon A Time: Our Happily Ever After**

She remembers jumping.

Jumping and closing her eyes, against the sudden rush of colours.

And then she hit the water and everything was cold, merciful blackness.

And blank.

She rather liked it.

But then she was torn from the cold and the black and there was white. Blinding white and she longed for the safe caress of the blackness that she used to have. She wanted… to run and hide in its soothing colourlessness, and never leave. She felt too exposed in this white.

And then she fluttered her eyelids (eyelids? Did she have eyelids?) and the colours were back. White and red and smears of pink and brown and yellow. Nothing distinct. She quickly closed her eyes again, but they wouldn't let her. Their voices sounded distant and tinny, like a recording. "Morgana, wake up. Morgana, I know you aren't asleep. You have to wake up now. Morgana!" She wouldn't, though. She wouldn't open her eyes. Because that was the closest she could get to the blackness.

And the voices had no right to tear her away from her peace.

And here she is now, listening to the voices get more and more frustrated. She crawls back into her island of black and quiet.

And then she hears his voice.

"I'm sorry, Morgana," He whispers in her ear. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I never meant for this to happen. I thought… I keep thinking that I can change things, that each new life is another chance, for me to finally get it right, but… I keep messing it up. I'm sorry. Next life, I'll… I'll stay away from you. You don't deserve this. You could have a happy life and not remember who you were before… I'll try. You don't deserve to suffer for my stupid mistakes…"

_No, _she wants to say, _No, don't leave me alone._

Her darkness doesn't seem so peaceful any more.

She pretends she can't figure out why.

But she can.

What she can't figure out, though, is him. How does his mind work? He could see her coming apart at the seams, being bombarded with flashbacks of so many previous lives, out of sequence, and he sat and watched, instead of ending the torture and just telling her.

She remembers the day it started.

She was coming home from work, just climbing off the bus and staring despairingly at the grey London drizzle. She still had to catch get the tube to the station down the road from their flat and she vaguely remembers cursing her inability to drive. Turning her pink coat collar up against the wind, she fought her way through the throng crowding the pavement. She was almost at the escalator down to the platform when her vicious elbow snagged a cloth bag, and the contents – rolls and rolls of silk, sequins and flowery fabrics – tumble all over the grimy tiles. The owner of the bag –

_- The cheery smile lights up her face as she flings open the curtains – _

- "Oh! I'm sorry; I wasn't looking where I was going!" The girl scrambles to retrieve her fabrics –

_- Sunlight streaming onto her face as she eagerly chatters about her father –_

- She brushes a dark curl out of her eyes and grabs her last sequin –

_- Her terrified expression as Morgana knocks the sword from her opponent's delicate mocha hands, and such sheer blissful savage__** triumph**__ – _

It was over almost as soon as it began. The dark-skinned girl with a seamstresses' hands was gone, and Morgana came back to herself sitting on the floor outside the ticket office, panting with exertion and feeling like she'd just run a marathon.

She wants to smile wryly at the memory, remembering how she tried to push the event from her mind, but the vague, seemingly unfounded fear of how brutally powerful she had felt when she sent her petrified opponent's sword flying from her grasp.

She never, ever, wanted to feel that way.

But every part of her craved it.

She remembers the second time. That had scared her badly.

This time, she was out with Merlin. It was her birthday, and they'd sat on a park bench watching the sunset with plastic cups of cheap champagne.

They were walking out of the park, holding hands, and it was possibly the most romantic thing she had ever experienced, and everything was perfect.

She bumped into him. At first glance, he was nothing special – dark haired but going grey around the edges, a little plump but then not everyone was as skinny as Merlin. He murmured an apology –

_- He grovels and tells her how sorry he is –_

- He pushed past her –

_- He looks at her hovel and attempts to hide his disgust – _

- He walked off –

_- She detests him, but he is useful – _

She came back to her senses in Merlin's arms. She'd fainted. But this time, a name rose to her lips.

_Aggrivaine._

She'd known someone called Aggrivaine.

She's kicking herself, now, for not getting it sooner. How could she have _not_ remembered then?

Perhaps because she didn't want to.

It happened a third time before she finally remembered everything. She was walking through the shopping centre, with one pitiful little bag hanging off her shoulder (they were watching their money a bit, the rent had to be paid after all) when she caught sight of an inexplicably familiar figure striding out of the glass revolving doors. He was dressed like a business man, in an expensive suit and silk tie –

_- Dressed like a king, in leather gloves and furs – _

- He carried himself with an air of importance, as though he was used to being listened to –

_- He walked tall, and stood proudly with the crown on his head – _

- She could see the little emblem on his jacket pocket, some hotel's trademark, along with the badge that proclaimed him Manager –

_- White-hot fury as she thought of him, sitting in splendour in his castle, the liar, traitor, __**murderer**__- _

She was leaning heavily against the window of Marks and Spencer's, almost hyperventilating as she attempted to get air into her lungs, with a name that simultaneously meant both nothing and everything to her bouncing around her head.

_Uther._

Looking back at it now, she doesn't know if she should laugh or cry.

She had been a scared little girl and a trying-to-be-realistic grown woman all at the same time, and it hadn't worked in her favour.

She wonders, though, why he wasn't her father in this life. She remembers he was, and she grew up with him, until around about the 60's, when she grew up without being related to him at all. She didn't know Arthur in this life either.

Something Merlin said drifts back to her in her reverie.

_"The bonds that tied us are withering and breaking with the endless passage of time. It is eroding them. One day they will break completely, even the strongest ties of blood and love."_

She thinks he said something like that back in the Elizabethan era. She remembers that. Walking around with what looked like half of Tesco's fruit and veg section dangling from her hat. She feels ancient, so ancient, looking back at that.

She'd felt so ancient when she finally remembered everything.

She was curled up on the sofa watching Jeremy Kyle with Merlin. What was so ridiculous was that it wasn't even someone important to her in her original life that sparked the big flashback. It was a kitchen maid she used to bump into, back when she was little enough to slip through people's legs down to the bustling kitchens. The maid was doggedly arguing her point to Jeremy, who was nodding and trying his best to look interesting –

_- the maid was scolding Morgana for sneaking off from the banquet yet again –_

_ - She was nineteen, bored stiff during the speeches for Arthur's birthday celebration – _

_- she was twenty, yelling at her father, wanting to rip out that blasted cravat and stuff it down his throat, sick and tired about his queen-and-country lectures-_

- "Morgana?" Merlin was leaning over her; she was lying on the floor –

_- it was the 60's and she was rollerblading down the street in her neon skirt and legwarmers, dying to show Gwen the new Walkman she'd got for her 16__th__ birthday – _

_- She was four, watching as her father was knighted by Queen Victoria- _

_- She was waving Arthur off as he left to fight those no-good Germans –_

_- She was green with envy, watching as Arthur tore the wrapping paper off one of those amazing Game-Boys- _

_-__**Arthur**__ – _

_- __**Gwen **__–_

_- __**Uther **__–_

_ - And Merlin, __**Merlin, Merlin –**_

_ - She loved him – _

_- She loathed him – _

_- She was clutching her throat, staring up at him, how could he, how __**could **__he – _

_- He'd poisoned – _

_- He'd __**poisoned **__her –_

_- smirking up at him, so confident, and the her world was only pain, and it hurt, it hurt too much to scream or snarl or shout, and she just gasped, because he'd stabbed her, he'd __**stabbed her**__ – _

_- __**He's stabbed me –**_

**_-I'm dying -_**

_ - But there were so many good memories too – _

_- His smile, lighting up her day – _

_- He hated her wig, and said so, he wasn't intimidated, even though they were not of the same class – _

_- His ears turning red as she showed him her brand new gown for the opening of the Great Exhibiton – _

_-Wringing his hands as they heard of Arthur defeating Napoleon, but not knowing if he was alive – _

_- lying on a hill, far from the roar of the boy racers on the main road, and he was showing her the stars - _

_- He was holding her close, so many times, eras flashing by, styles changing, but he was always there, beside her, her constant – _

"Morgana? Morgana, say something!" He was shaking her, but he stopped when he saw the look on her face.

She was so confused –

She ran –

Out, out, away –

Away from the city –

She stops that train of thought, because she knows where it leads, and she doesn't want to go there.

Maybe she'll come back to him now, she thinks. He can't seem to fix her, not when he is broken as well. From the pain of a thousand rejections.

Why hasn't he left her?

Why hasn't he given up?

He's always been there.

He's never stopped believing that one day, she might forgive him.

She supposes it's time he finally got a chance.

She opens her eyes.

He's slumped over, onto her hospital bed, from where he was sitting in a plastic grey chair he's obviously stolen from the waiting area. His hair is sticking up like an ebony bird's nest, and his ears stick out endearingly.

He looks so young, so vulnerable.

The corners of her mouth pick up in a little smile.

She doesn't wake him up.

She'll tell him in the morning.

They've got all the time in the world to work on their happily ever after.

**And… that's it! Tah-dah! The end, and a happy ending too! J**

**Thanks for reading, and please tell me what you think of my ending!**

**- FollowtheAurora, 15****th**** September 2013**


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